


Because Superheroing doesn't actually pay the rent

by Project0506



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a stripper.  It's not as much of a secret as he thinks.<br/>(And apparently he's not all that observant about his teammates either.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because Superheroing doesn't actually pay the rent

“It’s a thing,” Tony assures him hurriedly at the look of horror growing on Steve’s face.  “It’s totally a thing.  Chill, relax, take a Valium, sit your ass down and breathe.  You look like you’re about to hyperventilate and our insurance does _not_ cover that.”

Clint, the fucker, is absolutely no help at all, hooting and guffawing as he is like a particularly loud donkey.  “Shut it Hawkass,” Tony gripes, and when Steve’s head snaps around to gape dumbly at the archer, it only serves to set him off more.

“You’re _Hawkeye_!” Steve exclaims, anguished, and Clint’s howls get even more raucous, if that’s possible.

“He’s Hawkeye,” Tony says as patiently as he can.  “I’m Iron Man,” and he’s immediately subjected to Steve’s gape of horror.  “Brucey over there is Hulk, the wonderfully frightening woman who has him by the hair and is making him beg for more is the Black Widow.  Thor is… Thor.  The dark-haired twins are both actually Loki which is why you never see both at the same time, and you never see either when there’s an attack downtown.  And you’re Captain America and we all take our clothes off for money sometimes.”  Tony blinks, and his brow furrows.  “How the fuck did you not… half of us don’t even wear _masks_.”

Steve ‘The Captain’, sometimes ‘Captain America’, Rogers sinks down into a chair with a cry that is _really_ pathetic coming from a grown-ass man.  Tony doesn’t feel the slightest pang of sympathy, honestly. 

Honestly.

“Does _everyone_ know?” The Captain laments, and Tony winces a little and nods. 

“Pretty much everyone over 18, and about 80% of the ones over 13.  And I’m counting the Amish in those numbers.  Sorry Cap, you’re kind of an internet sensation.  What can I say?  America loves your rosy apple-pie-cheeks.  Both sets.”  Steve makes another one of those pathetic cries and buries his face in his hands.  Even Clint is starting to look a little troubled.  Truth, Justice and Liberty shouldn’t be curling up in a ball in one of the dressing rooms of a high-end strip club.  Especially not 10 minutes before his set.

“On in ten -the fuck’s wrong with Cap?”  Hill pokes her head in, then shoots a withering glare at Tony as if instinctively aware that it’s his fault her headliner has streaky mascara splotches.  Tony throws his hands up in surrender.

“Cap just found the internet,” he defended, and shows her the guy’s smartphone screen to collaborate his story.  “Apparently he thought his stripper life was kind of a secret.”

Hill rolls her eyes so hard it looks like it hurts.  “Superheroing pays shit,” she informs Steve archly.  “So if you actually want to _afford_ that East Side apartment of yours you’ll get on that stage and shake that ass like every wiggle is a bullet in your best boy’s gun.”  And with that she’s gone, bellowing for Loki to _lose the tits and_ _put his fucking dick back on, what did he think this was, high school?_

Tony sighs, and fishes out the make-up _again._   “Once again, it’s up to me to create fucking _miracles_ ,” he grouses, but actually does redo both Steve’s eyes in under a minute.  “Oi,” he says.  “Smile.  Or if you want to keep the pouty look we’ll scrap your routine and send you up there with Natasha and a whip.”  Natasha, naturally, looks far too interested in that idea, and far too disappointed when Steve waves it off. 

Steve’s a man of his word, apparently.  And he’s signed a _contract_.  Tony nods, as if that means jack shit to him.  He resists the urge to clap and cheer at Steve’s rousing speech about responsibility, and doesn’t resist the urge to clap and cheer at the sight of Steve’s determined ass as he leaves.

Tony holds the encouraging pose for all of three seconds after Steve’s gone before slumping back into the recently vacated seat.  “How the fuck?” he yells, over Clint’s renewed laughter.  “ _I’m the only one who wears a fucking mask!”_


End file.
